Falling Out
by Channel D
Summary: When Tony asks Tim why the team has never met Tim's dad, Tim doesn't know what to say...since the truth is too painful. Tag to episode 9.03, The Penelope Papers. One-shot.


**Falling Out**

**by channeld**

_written_: inspired by events in 9.03, _The Penelope Papers  
><em>_rating_: K plus  
><em>genre<em>: drama  
><em>featuring<em>: Tim et al  
><em><strong>warning: season 9 spoilers<strong>_

_author's note_: This will tide me over until we learn more about Tim's father.

disclaimer: I own nothing of NCIS.

* * *

><p>It was a lie. It was now, and had been so for the last seven years.<p>

All that time, ever since the day that Tony had asked him if he had told his father what he did, and Tim had said, with apparent pride, "Every day," Tim had not been fully forthcoming with…

_Oh, stop it, Self. You lied to them._

_You were looking for a past that maybe you never had. After that rejection, you kept hoping that things would be good again. That you would have the respect you wanted from your hero-figure father._

"Earth to McGee!"

Tim jumped, and saw that Tony had cupped his hands into a megaphone. "Sorry—what?"

"I just said, 'why are you so lucky?' and then you spaced out."

Tim looked blank.

"About your father! We've never met him. We've met Jackson, and he's pretty cool, particularly for being the boss' dad. We've met…Ziva's, and he's…well, we've met him. And you've met mine, and he's hard to appreciate, I know, but—" he shrugged. "But that's who he is. All we've met in your family is your hottie sister—"

"Watch it…"

"And your hottie grandmother." He waggled his eyebrows and grinned at Tim's frown. "How about Old Man McGee? Officer Old Man McGee? Maybe we'll meet him in a case, if nothing else."

"He'll be retiring in a few years."

"So how's he doing? Stationed in this area? Why doesn't he ever come by to see his chip-off-the-old-block? Tim-off-the-old-block?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's busy?" Tim raged, before he could stop himself.

"You should drag him in here sometime so we can get to know him. Doesn't he want to see where his little boy works?"

"I can't drag him anywhere he doesn't want to go!"

"You're saying he doesn't want to see NCIS? I thought he was proud of what you did."

"Tony…" That was Ziva.

"You always gave us to believe that you were the dutiful son, brought up right in a loving household, and the respect was reciprocated." Tony was still smiling, but there was a slightly malicious curl to his lips now; an _I've got you; haven't I?_ look.

"Tony, leave it," Ziva moved between her teammates.

Tony looked over her head, ignoring her. "Were you—I don't know, making just a tiny fib?" He dropped his voice. "Was any of it _ever_ true?"

Stunned for a moment, in one swift movement Tim then grabbed his gun and his badge from his desk, picked up his backpack, and ran out, taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

"McGee! Wait!" Tony called.

"Stop it. You are not sorry for what you said to him," Ziva scolded.

Tony smirked. "Ah; he's used to it. He knows me."

"That does not make it right."

Gibbs swung in. "Dead Marine in Rockville. Let's go!...Where's McGee?"

Tony and Ziva exchanged glances. "He is, uh…he had to go somewhere," Ziva faltered.

"I don't see a leave slip on my desk!"

"I…I am certain that was an oversight."

Gibbs sighed. "Come on, then, you two. Don't need you running off as well."

_McGee's in trouble now!_ Tony mouthed to Ziva, who only turned away.

* * *

><p>Tim drove out of the Yard, and by force of habit pointed his car toward home. But an exit or two before he would arrive there, he made a quick decision and turned the other way. There was the steakhouse he'd loved; yes it was still there. He hadn't been there in…seven years. He wondered if the food was still as good as he remembered.<p>

The lunchtime crowd was starting to leave. Tim got a good parking spot and trusted that he'd likely have prompt service. He did. After ordering the strip steak, steak fries, a salad and a cola…

_A cola? Son; you're a grown man now. Sodas are for kids._

He almost called back the waitress to ask for a beer instead, but then changed his mind. _I'm not drinking for my father. I've never really liked beer that much._

This place did very hearty steak fries, with a unique coating. It took him back, in a flash, to that day; his last time here…

"_I feel I _am_ making a difference, Dad! I'm part of a great team; my boss…knows everything there is to know about crime-fighting, and our team is one of the best in the country. Maybe the best. NCIS—"_

"_NCIS. NCIS, NCIS. That's every other word I hear from you, Tim."_

"_I'm proud to be a part of it, Dad. And Agent Gibbs personally selected me—"_

_His father sighed as he poked at his baked potato. "I always though you would follow in my footsteps Tim; and in your grandfather's as well. There are dozens…hundreds of different specialties in the Navy. You'd easily find something you loved doing."_

"_I already have," Tim said stubbornly. "Why can't you accept that?"_

"_Why can't you at least give the Navy a try? You're not too old to still go through Officer Candidate School."_

"_I get seasick on boats. The Navy doesn't need someone like that."_

"_Now that's just nonsense. I've never seen a true case of seasickness in anyone who was really determined to serve."_

"_Penny says it's not in my mind, Dad. She says—"_

"_My mother coddled you too much. She let you believe in these things."_

"_She's a scientist, and she knows!" Tim could feel his anger rising. "She didn't coddle me, but she certainly understood me a heckuva lot more than you ever did! Or you ever tried to do."_

"_Tim—"_

"_Why? Why can't you accept that I'm where I really belong? I'm not in the Navy, like you are, but I deal with Navy matters every single day! I'm doing my bit! I'm serving my country!" He was standing now; glaring down at this man he'd once had so much respect for. "I guess we have nothing more to say to each other." He pulled $20 out of his wallet and threw it on the table; his share of the bill. Then he walked out, letting his father's cry of "Tim!" go unanswered._

In the following days, Tim had let a few other things do unanswered, too. Phone calls from his father. Emails from his father. After a week, those stopped.

Tim reflected on his conversations with Abby…actually, she did most of the talking. Her talk about her family was always lively and full of love. Tim felt a pang. He envied what she had, and what he did not.

At least, despite a few bumps growing up, he'd mostly been happy. _But how could I not have realized what Dad wanted me to do? I had no idea that the Navy was so important to him that he felt it had to be important to me, too…_

* * *

><p>She answered on the first ring. <em>"Timothy! You know, I just had a feeling today that you would call."<em>

He had to smile. "Do you believe in intuition, Penny?"

"_As a scientist—no. As a human—of course. What's on your mind?"_

"I just…I don't know."

"_Hmmm. Well, here's my intuition. Your number one concern for several years, other than being unable to land a hubba-hubba—"_

"Penny—"

"—_is your father. You should call him."_

"I don't need to see the disappointment in his eyes when he sees me."

"_He's not disappointed in you. He's never had anything but love for you. Why won't you try?"_

"I…can't." He said goodbye and hung up. _I don't have the guts to do it._

_I don't want to be hurt again._

* * *

><p>But then he did. One day, when evening had fallen, he remained behind at work and made a call from his desk phone.<p>

Seven years since he'd heard his father's voice. Seven years since his father had heard his.

It didn't go well. Tim went into the situation scared instead of happy. His father didn't sound annoyed, not exactly, but maybe suspicious of Tim's intentions. There would be no happy-huggy family reunion over the phone lines today. After a few minutes of small talk about the weather, Tim said that he had to go, and then he hung up on his father.

'_I have to go.' Man, I've gotten so good at telling lies._ But what had he expected? He and his father were leagues apart, and probably always would be.

It was sad for Abby that the father she'd loved so much had died. Maybe he'd go talk to her, and ask her to tell him another funny or warm story about him.

* * *

><p>A few weeks later, the team came back to NCIS one afternoon from a crime scene to discover someone sitting at Tim's desk. Abby had pulled Tony's chair up to Tim's desk, and was cheerfully talking with the visitor.<p>

She smiled and stood up when she saw the team. "Oh, McGee! That is, you McGee. Not this McGee. This could get confusing. Not as much as Anthony DiNozzo and Anthony DiNozzo, but you know."

"Dad?" Tim was a bit alarmed, a bit perplexed, and a lot startled. "What are you doing here? Is everyone okay? Mom? Sarah?"

The white-haired man smiled as he stood, looking crisp in his uniform. "Everyone's fine. You must be Agent Gibbs. Gerrit McGee."

Gibbs shook the offered hand. "Admiral. These are the other members of my team: Agents DiNozzo and David."

Gerrit shook hands all around.

"I was keeping him company after he got an escort up here," said Abby, beaming. "We were waiting for you all to get back." She added in a stage whisper, "He thinks I'm a special agent."

"You didn't fool me, Abby," the admiral chuckled.

Gibbs could see that Tim was about to hyperventilate. "Have you met our Director, Admiral? I'd be pleased to introduce you, and maybe give you the nickel tour…"

"Thank you, Gibbs. That would be appreciated."

When they has left, Ziva ordered Tim to sit down before he fell over. "You have issues with your father, McGee?" He didn't reply, so she continued. "The trouble with family is that you are attached to them by invisible ropes that stretch through the years. You have to accept that there will always be some attachment, and keep on living your life. Cherish the good moments when you can, and maybe you will be blessed with many."

"We haven't spoken in seven years," Tim said bluntly.

This shocked his comrades. "Yow. Even at our worst moments, McGee, my dad and I always kept in touch. I do…feel affection for the old goofball. He's my dad."

"Seven years! Oh, Tim…" Abby crushed Tim in a hug. "You _must_ make up to him. You _must_!"

Gibbs came in on the tail end of that. "Your father's in talking with Vance. He didn't explicitly say it, but I gathered you two haven't spoken in a long time."

Tim's face looked dull, and his voice was flat. "I don't know why he's here, but it can't be for anything good. He hates NCIS. Hates my job. Hates me, for not joining the Navy."

"Talk to him, McGee," Gibbs advised. "Worked for me. Take the rest of the day."

Tim was clearly dubious, but seeing the admiral coming their way, it appeared he had no choice.

* * *

><p>Father and son took a bench in Willard Park, across the street from NCIS. "Lot of nice old equipment here," Brennan said in admiration. "Love the anchors and the bells in particular. Cannons…not so much."<p>

"I thought everyone in the Navy liked cannons," said Tim. "Don't you all live for being able to blow things out of the water?"

"You're thinking of torpedoes. And not everyone in the Navy thinks alike, or has the same interests, like I've told you before."

Tim didn't answer. There was no point in rehashing old arguments.

"Do you understand me, Tim?"

"No. How can you be Navy and yet hate NCIS?"

"I don't think I ever said that I _hated_ it, and if I did, I'm sorry. It's just…an alien concept for me. Depending on law enforcement."

"What's wrong with law enforcement? You're an _admiral_! Your job is to preserve peace, and to be prepared to fight!"

Gerrit flinched. "It's because I do love peace that, like my father, I went into the Navy. I wanted to help people to understand that we are all brothers and sisters. Maybe one day we can all live in harmony, and not need the military."

"That sounds very 60-ish, like Penny's idealism," Tim laughed. "Of course that can't be you, because…" His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. " You're kidding! You turned out…just like your mother! You're a…a…pacifist?"

"I'll accept the term 'idealist'," Gerrit smiled slightly. "Given my mother's outspokenness toward authority, can you not understand the contempt I carried for the police? I got that from her. I cried when she went to jail."

"So that's it," Tim said slowly. "You've equated NCIS with the police. You felt I'd sold out."

"Yep. I was wrong. I've slowly come to realize that. Had a few cases in which NCIS did good work for us. And I gradually got to thinking, _My boy is one of these good people._ I wanted to call you, so many times. I was afraid…afraid that you'd walk out on me again. Mother came to see me the other day and read me the riot act. Said if I didn't make up with you I'd die a bitter man. I've never stopped loving you, Tim."

"Yeah, well…"

"Well?"

"Remember when I was 16, and crashed my car?"

"I do."

"First thing you did when I got out of the hospital was take me for a ride on your damn boat. I said I'd get seasick, and you just ordered me not to. And I did anyway. Was _that_ love?"

Gerrit was silent for a few beats. Then he said, "No, that was a wrong move on my part. I didn't understand seasickness then. After we…after you and I stopped talking, Mother lectured me on the subject; all the scientific stuff she knows. But even so, I didn't believe it until two fine young officers on my ship admitted to having it. A young man and a young woman; the best of the Navy. Brilliant, and yet afflicted with it. Controlled by medication, mostly. I then became a believer. Tim, I honestly thought that a ride on our boat, in the fresh air, would do you good. Make you happy. Lord knows, I wanted you to be happy.

"I've _always_ wanted you to be happy."

"I _am_ happy." Tim could feel his eyes watering.

"You have a good crew here. Stick with them. This, I see now, is where you were meant to be, Tim. That Agent Gibbs…he's someone you can lean on, since I can't be around for you all the time."

"He's great," Tim admitted. "Though…I think I'd like to have you around more," he said, softly.

His father hugged him. "I'll tell your mother that you're coming to dinner Sunday. No argument! Bring a date if you want to."

Tim laughed as seven years of troubles fell away.

-END-


End file.
